


Clean Up

by egocentrifuge



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: I have been told this was still nice to read even if watersports isn't your thing, Joellis - Freeform, M/M, Watersports, mainly watersports desperation, which means a lot of joel being a bastard and adam being overwhelmed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 09:56:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5703418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/egocentrifuge/pseuds/egocentrifuge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam can’t help the punched out whine that escapes when Joel’s fingers jab into his lower belly, prodding at his aching bladder meanly.</p><p>“Jo-el,” Adam moans, shoving at Joel’s hand and getting his fingers harder against his stomach for the trouble. “Joel, stop, I’m gonna fucking piss myself—”</p><p>“Yeah?” Joel asks, and—</p><p>“You, you’re,” Adam realizes “You’re doing it on purpose.”</p><p>“I don’t, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Joel says, still aggressively massaging Adam’s stomach. Adam abandons getting Joel to stop and grips at his armrests instead, because Joel is fucking unstoppable when he fixates, and he seems to be fixated on Adam <i>pissing his fucking pants.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Clean Up

“God, stop—stop squirming,” Joel snaps, hands landing heavily on Adam’s shoulders, and the flinch shudders through Adam’s body and straight to his cock. He whines and pushes Joel away and gets a scowl in return.

“I have to pee, Joel,” he snaps. “I would stop fidgeting if you _let me go_ instead of fucking filming this now.”

Adam doesn’t know what he expected, but Joel’s sharp grin isn’t it. He opens his mouth to ask what the fuck Joel is on when Joel’s reaches for something on Adam’s lap.

Nope, not on his lap. Just, his lap. His—

Adam can’t help the punched out whine that escapes when Joel’s fingers jab into his lower belly, prodding at his aching bladder meanly.

“Jo-el,” Adam moans, shoving at Joel’s hand and getting his fingers harder against his stomach for the trouble. “Joel, stop, I’m gonna fucking piss myself—”

“Yeah?” Joel asks, and—

“You, you’re,” Adam realizes “You’re doing it on purpose.”

“I don’t, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Joel says, still aggressively massaging Adam’s stomach. Adam abandons getting Joel to stop and grips at his armrests instead, because Joel is fucking unstoppable when he fixates, and he seems to be fixated on Adam _pissing his fucking pants._

“Joel, please,” Adam gasps. “It, ah god, it—it hurts, it’s not—” The laugh rises up unbidden and grabs at Adam’s throat, sending him into a giggle fit while he strains to roll away from Joel’s hand.

“You’re going, your monitor,” Joel warns, and grabs at the back of Adam’s chair. It brings them closer together, brings Joel’s neck within range to be ravaged, and that’s good up until the point where Adam realizes it also means Joel’s within range to shove a knee between Adam’s legs and press up against his aching crotch.

Adam yelps before wrapping his arms tightly around Joel’s waist. 

“I can’t,” he laughs, heat rising to his face. “I can’t, Joel, Joel, please don’t make me—”

“I, I don’t, I still have no idea what you, you—” Joel starts, arching his neck back far enough to grin down at Adam, and Adam has a brilliant idea. A great idea. Joel, germaphobe Joel—he’s bluffing, right? He has to be. There’s no way that _Joel Heyman_ of the _You touched my glass, I need a new one_ camp is actually looking for Adam to wet himself.

As hard as it is to hold it, as uncomfortable as Adam is right now, it’s so much more difficult to coax his body into letting go, into realizing that, yes, on this damn chair, nowhere near a toilet, do it , _come on._

Adam’s still giggling, a little hysterically, as the warmth spreads between his legs. He sees the moment it makes it through his boxers and jeans and starts soaking into Joel’s shorts, sees Joel’s lips part in an O where before they’d been curled in a smile.

“You, you—” Joel says, and then Adam’s being kissed more furiously than he’s ever been kissed before.

“Are you serious?” Adam whispers when Joel pulls away. He can feel Joel’s erection digging into his stomach and Joel’s eyes are so dilated they’re nearly black.

“Serious about, about what?” Joel rasps. He grins again as Adam’s laughter kicks back up. “I will say, though, that there’s a, a shower in the next building over, and that I’m, I’m going to fucking, I’m going to—you’re going to do that again.”

Adam buries his face in the front of Joel’s hoodie to muffle his laughter.

“Joel,” he manages. “Camera on.”

“Camera?”

“Webcam recording," Adam says, unable to stop himself from dropping into the lilting accent he adopts when drunk because fuck, he feels dizzy.

"Are fucked," he adds helpfully. He feels Joel stiffen and--oh god, of course, his cock twitch.

“It’s still—oh, fuck yes,” Joel says, and then he’s pulling away, bending over the computer and ending the capture. “Remind me to, to edit this one myself.”

“Okay,” Adam agrees. “How are we going to leave the office without this—” He gestures to their ruined clothes, “—being noticed?”

Joel comes up with a plan. They implement it. It fails.

And in the end, they forget not to give the footage to Jeremy.

**Author's Note:**

> find me at egocentrifuge.tumblr.com


End file.
